The Art of Appreciation
by MGMK
Summary: More from the Pierces...


**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note:** No sex in this because I don't want to 'damage' Sugar, lol. Happy Valentine's Day, people!

* * *

><p>"Hey Boo Boo," Mercedes coos, lifting Maya up and down in the air a couple of times, smiling when the baby laughs along with her. "You miss Auntie Cedes, 'cause Auntie Cedes missed you."<p>

"You guys are totally spoiling her," Santana lightly admonishes, sitting a glass of lemonade in front of her friend. "This morning she looked absolutely shocked that someone was not holding her."

"That's because she's the most gorgeous, sweetest, adorable baby in the whole damn world," Mercedes continues to fawn, eyes twinkling.

Santana smiles, quickly reaching over to retrieve her phone when it starts vibrating against the counter.

It's a text message, obviously.

That much Mercedes can see.

And, more than likely, it's from Brittany if that ringtone is any indication.

I mean, _Shawty Is A Ten_?

Really, Santana?

But what Mercedes doesn't see is that usual spark she sees when anything remotely 'Brittany' floats into Santana's atmosphere.

In fact, she watches Santana's face fall just a little bit as she scans the text, her shoulders slumping slightly. She watches Santana set the device back down, her gaze lingering a little longer than it should on the polished granite of their kitchen counter.

"Was that your wifey?" Mercedes asks, being a little nosy.

Hey, some habits are really hard to break.

She'd actually chosen the perfect career considering her interest in all business that isn't her own.

"Mmmhmm," Santana says and Mercedes watches as the woman she's known for the most formative part of her life closes up, the walls she'd shed all those years ago when she finally accepted herself going back up brick by brick.

"Yeah?" Mercedes hedges, still keeping her attention on Maya. "What'd she say?"

Santana sighs, pushing herself away from the counter and over to the stove where dinner's slowly simmering. "Just that she's going to be late for dinner…again. But hey, no big deal, right? I can just, you know, toss out the dinner I've spent the last hour and a half preparing."

At that, she completely turns the stove off, frowning at the hiss of the still-cooking chicken.

Mercedes sits Maya on her lap, the little girl playing with the charm on her necklace. "Are you okay?"

Santana spins around like she's just been caught doing something she shouldn't. "Yes," she answers quickly, holding on for a few seconds before her chin trembles and her head falls into the palm of her hand. "No," she amends, her breath hitching oddly.

Now, Mercedes has seen Santana cry a full total of three times.

Once, in high school, when Finn sang her that 'we still love you even though you're a vagitarian' song.

The second time was at their wedding, her 'I do' coming out all blubbery.

And the third was in the hospital, moments after Maya was born, the baby wriggling and quiet in her mother's arms.

And every single time she's seen her cry, Mercedes has been scared out of her mind.

This time is no exception.

Maya's a little unsettled too, her big, expressive eyes flitting back and forth between her mommy and her aunt.

"Satan, what's wrong?" she asks, standing up while still holding onto Maya carefully. She's across the room in three quick strides.

Santana shakes her head, her voice quivering as she mumbles out something that sounds a lot like 'it's stupid'.

"What is?" Mercedes questions, keeping her tone light, so not as to further upset the baby.

Santana sniffs and lifts her head up from its hiding place, watery eyes meeting Mercedes'. "What I'm feeling," she answers, shrugging lightly and crossing her arms against her chest.

"Feelings are never stupid, Santana."

Santana scoffs. "Don't shrink me Jones. I'm not one of your nutjob clients."

"No one said you were. But you are crying – which is disturbing in and of itself – and you're upsetting your daughter so let's be the adults that we are and talk this out."

She's placating and asking Santana to open up is a bit of a reach, but then Santana's eyes linger on Maya who reaches for her eagerly.

Santana gives her a watery smile and takes her into her arms, inhaling and exhaling and shaky breath before squaring her shoulders. "I know it's dumb and it's probably just my imagination," she starts, rolling her eyes at herself, "But…like, since I've had Maya, do you think I'm less hot?"

Mercedes quirks an eyebrow and, before she can stop herself, bursts out laughing. "_What?_"

"I'm serious Mercedes," Santana almost whines, not appreciating her reaction the least bit. "This is not a laughing matter."

"Look, Satan," she starts, then amends when Santana shoots her a death glare, "I mean Santana, I'm not into women. Like, not _at all_. But _if_ I were – and if you ever mention this again, I'll flat out deny it – you'd definitely be on my short – super, super short – list, okay? Now, seriously, what is this about? Because I sincerely doubt you, Miss Everybody Wants Me, is having self-esteem issues."

Santana's gaze drops down to the floor and she mutters something so quietly and so quickly that if Mercedes weren't watching her intently, she'd have completely missed it.

Still, just to be sure…

"Did you just say-"

"Brittany won't have sex with me," Santana cuts her off, speaking a little louder this time.

"That's…what I thought you said," Mercedes says hesitantly, thinking. "Well, like, what? Have you tried initiating sex with her and she's, like, pushed you away or something?"

"No," Santana answers, eyes widening in something akin to terror. "I'd _die_ if that ever happened."

"Well, then what makes you think that Brittany doesn't want to have sex with you?" Mercedes can't _believe_ she's having this conversation.

The things she does for her friends.

"It's a lot of little things. Like, before, she'd rush home from work when I'd tell her I'm making dinner. She'd notice things like when I've curled my hair. But, it's not like that now. The other night, there I am, lying in our bed waiting for her to come home, wearing my best teddie and she throws on sweats and collapses after a brief kiss goodnight. Old school Brittany and I would have had a sex marathon. I can't blame her, though. I mean, who'd be attracted to a chick with swollen, leaky tits?"

"Way too much information Santana."

"Whatever," Santana grumbles, moving to skulk away but Mercedes grips her elbow, keeping her there.

"Have you…mentioned this to Brittany?"

"Are you kidding me? What exactly am I supposed to say Mercedes; 'Hey Britt, remember how we used to fuck like rabbits? How come we don't do that anymore? Is it because you're repulsed by me?' Yeah, what a conversation-starter that would be."

"Okay, that mug you own that says 'sarcasm is your friend'? Break it. It lies," Mercedes deadpans. "Have you listened to nothing I've been saying for the past five years?"

"What? That Bill Clinton was the best black president we've ever had?"

Mercedes lets that slide. "No, that the key to a healthy and long-lasting relationship is communication. You have to tell her how you feel, Santana. How is the problem ever going to get solved if she doesn't _know_ there's a problem?"

"I get what you're telling me, Cedes. I really do," Santana says, cradling Maya gently against her heart. "But, I can't tell her. I just…can't."

"Why not?"

"Because…because what if I'm right?"

***o*O*o***

"I can't believe I'm going to ask you this, but, when's the last time you had sex with Santana?"

Brittany stops swiveling on the bar stool.

She did find it rather strange that Mercedes out of the blue asked her to meet her for a quick shake-break, especially considering Mercedes' office is way across town.

"What?" she asks, mouth still full of chocolate milkshake. "Did you seriously just ask me that?"

Mercedes rolls her eyes. "Yes. Now, just quickly answer the question so we can move on-"

"But like, when we got married and we went on our honeymoon and I told you we found out just how long Santana could hold her breath underwater in a hot tub you said that if I ever directly or indirectly referenced me and Santana's sex life around you you'd go all 'oops upside my head' and then I was like 'what does that mean' and you said I wouldn't want to find out but I'm still really confused about that so like, if you could explain it now I'd really appreciate it."

"Oh my God, _Brittany_," Mercedes groans, placing her hands on the other woman's shoulders and staring directly into her eyes, "Listen to me. Your woman thinks you don't want her anymore."

Brittany blinks, absorbing the information with a confused frown. "Why would my woman think that?"

"Because you haven't had sex with her," Mercedes deadpans, waiting for Brittany to connect the dots.

"We haven't had sex because she's tired a lot and I'm tired a lot and Maya's incredibly nosy – I think she gets that from you – and…I mean, it's not that I don't want to. Santana's oral is to die-"

"Britt!" Mercedes yells, clamping a firm hand over the other woman's mouth. "Okay. Look, how about this? Valentine's day is coming up, right? How about I come scoop up Maya that night and you guys can enjoy some quality time? Sound like a plan?"

Brittany nods, mouth still covered.

Then she mutters something Mercedes can't quite understand.

"What?" she asks, removing her hand.

Brittany grins. "You're setting me up on a booty call."

Mercedes laughs, shaking her head.

_This_ girl.

***o*O*o***

**Tuesday, February 14th**

**9:47 A.M.**

Santana shifts in their bed, her arm brushing up against soft skin and she smiles, never tiring of being able to wake up next to the woman she loves.

Her eyes open and like she suspects, Brittany's right there, but, not like she suspects, her wife is propped up over her, face angelic as she smiles down on her.

"Hey," she croaks out lazily, shoulders dipping into the pillows as she arches her back slightly.

"Morning," Brittany mumbles, grin widening.

"What time is it?"

"Quarter to ten."

Santana nods, closing her eyes again, then-

"Britt, what are you still doing here?" she asks, sitting up suddenly. "You're going to be late for work."

"Not today," Brittany informs her calmly, pulling her back down. "I'm…" she coughs with a grin, "…sick."

"You're calling off?"

"Yeah," Brittany nods, settling Santana back against the pillows and moving closer, throwing her right leg over Santana's own. She kisses Santana's chin, dropping tiny teardrop kisses along her wife's jaw line.

"It's Valentine's day," she mutters against Santana's warm cheek. "Our first as mothers and I thought we'd spend the day together, as a family. And then tonight, well, tonight is for the lovers."

Brittany shifts completely now, dropping her knees on either side of Santana's thighs, straddling her as her mouth continues to wreak delicious havoc. "Mercedes is going to come get Maya and then we can," she trails off, leaning back to look Santana in the eye and wiggle her eyebrows, adoring the little giggle she gets in response, "…get reacquainted."

Santana wraps her arms around Brittany's neck, her left hand pulling Brittany's mouth to her own so she can kiss her deeply.

Pulling away after a short century, she rests her forehead against Brittany's, catching her breath. "Why wait until tonight?"

Brittany smiles, kissing her quickly before moving away and literally diving across the bed to their nightstand, rummaging around in the drawer for something. "Because…" she drawls, returning to Santana, "…it's time for presents. Well, one of 'em anyway."

She hands Santana the rectangular black box, adorned with a tiny red bow, and waits patiently for the question she's sure she'll hear any min-

"Babe, what is this?"

"Open it," Brittany says, biting her chin as she rolls her eyes.

Santana and her propensity for spoiled surprises.

She looks on excitedly as Santana flips the box open, watching with unwavering interest as the confused pout works its way onto Santana's face.

"You got me a pen?"

"Ahh," Brittany says, taking the writing instrument from her gently. "But not just any pen. Behold."

Brittany flips the pen right side up and it's one of those pens that's got liquid in the top and as the little placards inside slide down they reveal a very smiley, very naked, picture of Brittany.

"Britt," Santana squeals, snatching the pen away with wide eyes. "What did you do?"

"Someone got me one as an office gift and I had this awesome idea to get you one so that while you're penning your next Grammy winner, you'll have a nice – and naughty – visual reminder of me."

Santana smiles, glancing at the pen then at her wife. The gift is just so uniquely Brittany that she's not surprised to feel heat prickling at the back of her eyes. "Thank you Britt-Britt," she murmurs through a grin, a lone tear escaping out of the corner of her eye.

"It's super unicorn, right?" Brittany smiles, nuzzling her nose, and Santana laughs, pulling her closer.

"Happy Valentine's day, baby," she adds, kissing her softly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

***o*O*o***

Santana sits Maya's bow atop her head of curls and pulls back a little to look at her.

She's wearing a pink romper that says "Mommies' Little Valentine" that she had especially ordered for the occasion and pink socks and the bow just sends the entire outfit over top in terms of cuteness factor.

If only Maya would leave it on her head.

"Stop Princess," Santana chastises, pulling chubby fingers away from the band holding it in place. "Stay extra pretty for Mommy, okay?"

Maya gurgles some but otherwise leaves it alone and Santana scoops her up, traipsing off to the kitchen to find Brittany.

"Something smells good," she says, finding Brittany huddled over the stovetop.

Brittany tosses a grin over her shoulder. "I'm trying to make heart-shaped pancakes but the mold I bought isn't really helping. I keep trying to shape it but it keeps, like, blobbing."

Santana peers into the pan after securing Maya in her high chair and smiles when she sees what Brittany's trying to do.

She picks the template up off of the counter and slides it into the pan, kissing Brittany's exposed shoulder as she does so. "Maybe this'll help."

"Of course," Brittany says, ducking her head shyly. "I'm such an idiot sometimes."

"Hey," Santana says sternly, biting that same shoulder, "What have I told you about that?"

Brittany smiles. "We don't use words like 'idiot' or 'stupid' in this house unless we're talking about Puck."

"Exactly," Santana grins, kissing her light bite mark away. "Hey, forget about breakfast for a sec. I want to give you something."

Brittany carefully flips the perfectly fluffy – and now heart-shaped – pancake over before joining them in the breakfast nook.

She quickly leans down to peck Maya on the lips, grinning when the baby giggles and grabs for her face, holding her down. "Hey Momma's little cutie pie."

"So, we made you something," Santana starts, holding the magnificently constructed card out to her and Brittany settles in next to her.

"Oh my…" Brittany gasps, looking over the memento.

Written on the front of the construction paper in pink glitter glue is 'Santana (hearts) Brittany'. Then below it, the words 'Forever and Always' are written in Santana's careful, elegant script.

Brittany feels the tears prickling the back of her eyes.

"You know I'm not that creative when it comes to stuff like this," Santana starts shyly, shrugging, "That was mostly your area of expertise, but I thought you might like it. And hey, look, Maya helped me."

Santana flips the card over and on the back are little tiny paint dots – smeared and smudged where Santana obviously couldn't control their daughter – all arranged in a giant rainbow, the words 'Maya loves Mommy, too' stretched out beneath it.

"Aww," Brittany fawns, leaning over to kiss Santana. "Thank you, honey. I love it. I love you."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Britt-Britt."

***o*O*o***

Maya's still sleeping in her carrier when Mercedes buckles her into her car seat – believe it or not, _all_ the Glee kids own a car seat now – dropping the diaper bag onto the seat next to her.

"She'll probably wake up around midnight for a bottle but after that she'll sleep right 'til morning, alright?" Brittany says, sneaking worried glances into the back seat of Mercedes' car.

"Oh, and make sure Mr. Winklevasser sleeps with her," Santana adds. "She hates waking up without him."

Brittany opens her mouth again. "And-"

"Alright," Mercedes says, taking two firm hands and forcing them back inside their house, "That's enough clucking from the mama hens. Mama Cedes' got this, ladies. And Maya will be back to you, safe and sound, tomorrow morning."

"Good night," she concludes, closing the door behind herself and leaving the two women alone.

Brittany turns to Santana. "Shower?"

***o*O*o***

Santana ends up in the shower first because Brittany needs to check on something…or something.

She kind of blanked out on her words when Brittany actually mentioned sharing the shower.

She's just _so _nervous and, really, it's not that they've not had sex in _so_ long but, damn, these insecurities _man_.

How do unattractive people deal with feeling like this on a regular basis?

The shower door slides open, suddenly.

"Water still hot?" Brittany asks, poking her head in and then rolls her eyes at herself. "What am I saying? Of course it's still hot. You're in it."

Santana smirks, rinsing the lathered soap from her arms. "Smooth, Mrs. Pierce."

"Don't call me that. Mrs. Pierce is my mom," Brittany says, climbing in behind Santana, hands instantly reaching out to grasp Santana's hips. "Or, you know, you."

She grins when Santana snorts, turning around in her arms and draping her own around Brittany's neck.

"Hi," she says, peering up at Brittany through wet lashes.

"Hey," Brittany husks back, pulling Santana's slippery body impossibly close. "This," she sighs, feeling their bodies mold together, "This is super sexy."

"Mmmhmm," Santana says, leaning up on her toes to press their lips together.

It's sensual, erotic, but also very comfortable, and Santana moans as their kiss deepens, Brittany's hands roaming and grasping her ass firmly.

"I missed this," Santana admits breathlessly, pulling back a moment. Brittany tries to meet her eyes but Santana's are looking down, embarrassed maybe. "I missed you," she sighs deeply, lifting her eyes again with great trepidation. "I thought…I thought you didn't-"

Brittany cuts her off, quickly pressing her mouth to Santana's. "Don't say it," she murmurs gently, sucking on Santana's lower lip. She pulls away, just far enough so that she can look her wife directly in the eye. "Don't even think it. I'll _never _stop wanting you Santana; even when you're old and wrinkly and have liver spots. You're it for me, babe. Always."

Santana smiles, stepping on her tiptoes to brush a kiss against Brittany's nose, and watching transfixed as Brittany matches her grin, the corner of her mouth lifting mischievously.

"But," Brittany starts, sliding her hands just a tad lower and then hiking Santana up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around her waist, "You know how they say actions make more noise than words or…something like that?" She grins coyly, shifting them so that Santana's pressed against the shower wall, the water cascading over their closer than close bodies. "I feel like acting out," she says quietly, leaning in to kiss Santana but then she jerks away just as quickly, brow furrowed. "Or is it making noise? Wait, how's it go again."

"It doesn't matter baby," Santana says, pulling Brittany down to kiss her deeply.

Besides, she has a sneaking suspicion that they'll be doing a little bit of both.

***o*O*o***

Santana lightly squeezes her thighs together before reaching down and tugging Brittany up weakly. "Britt…baby, no mas. No mas," she manages to wheeze out, oxygen apparently a short commodity for her right now.

Brittany places one last wet kiss on her upper thigh before sliding up along Santana's sweaty, still quivering body, a smug grin on her face.

Santana frowns up at her, confused. "What's with that face?"

"I still got it," Brittany boasts, smile a mile wide now.

"Ugh," Santana grumbles, even though she laughs a little. "You're so cocky sometimes."

"All the time," Brittany corrects, pulling the sheets around them. The room's a lot cooler now that their X-rated activities have ceased.

She slides her body down next to Santana's, wrapping and arm around her and tugging until their face to face, pressed close together, bodies molding and legs tangling together intimately.

"I've got one more surprise for you," Brittany whispers, smiling at how Santana's trying in vain to ward off sleep.

"Britt, you didn't have to get me anything else," she lightly protests and Brittany chuckles, sliding her free hand under the pillow until she finds what she's looking for.

"I may be missing a few buttons on the remote control, but I _know_ that not getting you bling on any holiday is right up there with national treason so…here," she says, handing the box over.

This one is decorated with gem stones and glitter so, really, Santana has no idea what to suspect.

But when she opens it, she's completely floored.

"Baby," she manages, her throat tightening, and Brittany swiftly moves to wipe the small tear that falls from her eye away.

"It's one of those double-sided deals," Brittany explains, taking the white gold locket out of the case. "See, on one side, I put the picture of you, me, and Maya from the park that day? Remember? And then on the other side is just me and Maya. I have one too. But, like, in mine, it's a picture of you and Maya trying to 'cook'. I just thought, this way we'd always be with one another. If not physically, then at least – wait, I looked this up – meta-phor-ically."

She smiles crookedly at Santana, looking a little sheepish but that all just fades away when Santana's hand brushes her cheek and pulls her down for a kiss.

"Every day, Britt," she murmurs into the kiss. "Every day."

"What?" Brittany asks, pulling back a little.

"I fall more in love with you every day," Santana answers, looking up at her fondly.

Brittany smiles, kissing her softly, slowly. "Happy Valentine's day, Santana."

"Happy Valentine's day."

***o*O*o***

Brittany stirs, the noise just barely on the edge of her consciousness.

_That sounds like…_

DING DONG!

_The doorbell!_

She jumps out of bed, careful not to jolt Santana – thank you sleep number bed – and is halfway to the door before she remembers she's naked.

The doorbell rings again as she's putting on her robe and then again as she pads to the door.

Someone really wants to get in.

_Maybe it's a robber._

Brittany reaches for the closest weapon – an umbrella – before speaking through the door.

"Who is it?"

"Open. The Damn. Door."

_Mercedes?_

Brittany drops the umbrella and pops the latch, pulling the door open to find Mercedes – or rather, what used to be Mercedes and is now a woman devoid of make-up and wearing curlers in her hair – and her daughter, Maya innocently looking up at her mom from the carrier.

"What's the matter?" Brittany asks.

"Take her back," Mercedes grumps, practically throwing the baby bag at the other woman. "I don't know what's wrong with her. We had a good time. She ate. She pooped. We got set for bed and then she went off like a five-alarm smoke detector. Take. Her. Back."

Brittany unbuckles Maya from the carrier and lifts the grinning baby, all bundled up, into her arms. "She seems fine now."

"Yeah, she shut up the moment we turned down the damn block. Like she knew she was home or something. What even?"

"Mercedes stop swearing," Brittany says, covering Maya's tiny ears.

"Sorry," Mercedes says, turning back down their walkway. Then adds, "I hope you two got all the kinks out because I can guarantee you, once the others get wind of this, this is the last alone time ya'll are gonna have for a _long _time."

Brittany frowns. "I don't know about any kinks, but we had lots of sex."

"Good Lord," Mercedes mutters, shaking her head. "G'nite, Brittany."

"Good night, Mercedes," Brittany calls brightly, shrugging at an aloof-looking Maya.

She makes quick work of removing her coat and hat, stripping her all the way down to her onesie before heading to her bedroom.

She settles Maya down carefully into the crib, Mr. Winklevasser already firmly in the baby's grasp. "I don't know why you were being such a bad girl for Auntie Mercedes," Brittany whispers, tickling her tummy before taking the short walk across the room to get a thicker blanket for her to sleep under.

"You're such an angel for your mommies," she continues, making her way back over but Maya's already asleep, her little fists curled up by her head as she snores gently.

Brittany smiles and tucks her in, turning the baby monitor on and leaning down to kiss her on the crown of her head.

"'Night angel."


End file.
